#it could be the next big thing !

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them

[hydrachea]

All of the quest menu descriptions for Aventurine's quest "All the Sad Tales".

(... And the one from "A Walk Among the Tombstones.)

[dirtytransmasc]

atwow hot take:

if jake had said his "son for a son" shit out loud and spider had heard him, he would have been so beyond pissed, he would be seeing red.

spider loved his little siblings so much, neteyam included, even after they grew apart. he loved them like they were his own blood and protected them like they were too (we see a lot more of them together in the comics, where spider is the big brother without a doubt). neteyam's death most certainly rocked him hard, even if he hasn't really been able to show it (how could he? he's already going through all the shit with his dad and the RDA and their nonsense, he can't grieve around neytiri, he's just so tired after it all. he doesn't have the room or the energy to grieve yet)

so if jake had the audacity to say that to/around spider not even a few hours after he watched his little brother get shot after coming to save him, after he stared at the bullet hole in his back, after he watched him take his last breaths, after he watched the light leave his eyes, after he watched his little brother die for him; if he said that while his little brother's body lay in a pool of his own blood not even ten feet away, not even cold yet, blood still clinging to his chest, the scent of it still filling the air: he would have lost his shit.

because the disrespect for his brother is wild.

jake was an active player in spider's neglect and abuse for the last 16 years, he let it happen, he helped it happen. he tried to send spider with the humans, tried to take him away from his siblings, from the forests, from eywa to live with his foster family that didn't love him (not to mention Nash was an asswipe of epic proportions) and the RDA of all people. he had referred to spider as a stray animal since he was little. he was the reason spiders life was hell.

and after all that, years and years of putting him in shit positions and allowing him to suffer the fate of being forever unloved and uncared for (by an adult authority figure, cause I love the kids, but they don't make up for the gap left by a parent), this is what it took for jake to care about him? his little brother had to die in front of him first? he had to be traded out to fill the space of a corpse, to fill in the gap left by his little brother's death?

in canon, spider was in deep in shock with nothing to break him from it, he wasn't in the place to really think about any of it, and I'm sure we're gonna see this anger in the coming movies, but if jake had said it out loud, that would have been enough to snap spider right out of it, and he would have given jake a piece of his mind, I just know it.

[serpentface]

Retconned Wardi firearms- a basic handgun, a highly decorative ceremonial handgun (belonging to Faiza), and a lance-gun.

Gun tech has officially been nerfed down to hand cannons (press F) (this has been a long time coming but I'd been fallacy of sunk costs-ing myself out of retconning).

Handguns are held similarly to a shotgun, with the butt pressed into the user's shoulder, one hand gripping under the barrel, and the other free to ignite the gunpowder. These represent the most advanced firearms in contemporary usage, both in make and in their use of uniform iron projectiles built to match the gun's bore for greater range and efficiency. Lance-guns are the more basal form, usually larger and mounted with the pole held over the shoulder, and are most effectively used by two people (one to hold and aim, one to light the gunpowder).

The spread of firearms is currently mostly limited to the Eastern Inner Seaway peoples (with some additional distribution via overland trade), and actual manufacture of hand cannons and gunpowder at Significant scale is limited to the region's core powers.

The reason for this limited spread is partially due to specific elements of the technology's history. Gunpowder was first synthesized by Burri alchemists and considered to be the discovery of the legendary divine weapon + solar fire of the deity Inanariya, and its formula (along with techniques for ideally refining its components) remained a closely guarded state secret. It was used predominantly in priestly contexts to generate flame and explosive sounds (in conjunction with earlier practices of generating multicolored flames with use of other chemicals), then integrated into combustible weaponry in the forms of fire lances, which would eventually develop into early handcannons.

The treatment of gunpowder as a guarded sacred or semi-sacred substance continued with Wardi adoption, where knowledge of its making is considered a closed rite. It's name (inya tsatsul or just tsatsul, a derived adoption of the Burri iñazatsūya) still reflects a divine solar association (the Burri word means 'sun's thunder', the Wardi 'inya' invokes the sun, 'tsatsul' is an adapted loanword and has no meaning independent of the substance itself), though its priestly use is now predominantly associated with the firearm'ed Odonii (rather than priests of the solar Face Inyamache). The composition of gunpowder can no longer be regarded as a Secret by any means, though efforts to obscure the methods of its creation are still moderately successful and has kept knowledge of gunpowder manufacture more limited than the total sphere of firearm usage itself.

The actual strongest limiting factor of firearm usage is the rarity of natural saltpeter deposits necessary for making gunpowder. The practice of actively producing saltpeter via nitraries has not been developed anywhere in the setting, and all is instead obtained via natural sources. These sources are rare and limited within the current spread of firearm technology, and result in gunpowder being a limited and expensive substance to produce. The weapons themselves are also very expensive to manufacture (a good quality steel SWORD is far too material-cost prohibitive for most people to own), particularly high quality firearms designed for use with standardized ammunition.

These guns are also very basal, and logistical difficulties in their use (weight, very slow loading and firing speed, high visibility, Relatively low reach and accuracy) along with the restrictive cost of production has kept firearms far from rendering conventional weaponry, armor, and projectiles obsolete (even within the societies that have access to them). They are still, however, very devastating in use within their contemporary context, particularly in that high quality guns have a longer range than the best arrow-based projectiles, and utterly negate most contemporary forms of armor at close range.

[introspectivememories]

it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a bernard down in possession of an empty lap, must be in want of a tim drake to sit in it

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

dumping more of my stancest feels here because i cannot NOT think of them. i read journal 3 for the first time this week and its great because Ford acts like stanley's biggest hater which is pretty fking funny (if not absolutely infuriating at times because omfg stfu you smug prick)

but the moments like this get to me

Ford being blinded by his quest of grandeur, accolades and praise for world changing discoveries, so obsessed with greatness, being the first name people remember, and all the other things his npd-isms tells him he wants.

And then there's "reminds me of camping with my brother. i wonder what he's up to..."

i mentioned in my previous post that stan acts quite a lot like the anchor to ford's boat, keeping him grounded and most importantly, safe from both the bitter and the sweet kinds of evils. but he also represents something so much simpler to ford too: the simple desires he represses so much because its not "good enough" for someone special like him.

he resents stan so much because he represents a "block" against that percieved good enough success he wants, the obstacle that made it impossible to get in a fancy college, become the world renowed researcher, the one who wanted to destroy his journal's and lifes work (even though it was the better, safer option if Bill really WAS that dangerous, which he was) that could still make him famous. because if ford's not "praised and weird" then he's just "weird" and being "weird" was nothing but a pain his whole life that kept him rejected and isolated from the masses. and stan prevented him from that.

(btw "maybe he can prove himself to me" is nasty work my god ford is a douche lmao)

a lot of his projections of something greater comes through with how he treated dipper in the show (his whole spiel in damvtf) and fiddleford in journal 3 where he looks down on the happy life that fiddleford had with his wife and child and saying he was "wasting his talents" making computers. and like, we all know by the way he takes them on high stakes adventures they're not as prepared for compared to him (and end up causing more trouble than not by doing so), he's trying to fill a gaping hole left by someone else. we all know this obviously, we all know what we ship here, but what i came to appreciate the most about it is how much that gaping hole exists in the low stakes

everytime ford is thinking during the "down time" moments, his thoughts always drift back to his childhood, and one person who represents it.

childhood memories, making fun of stans favorite snack, scribbling out a design of the stan o war, whenever Ford lets his mind wander it expresses such an intense yearning for the past before he became obsessed with wanting something more. these are his most utmost and most unfiltered thoughts, which is why he scribles them away or and writes in code. and the fact that he directly says they are about NOT getting married, followed with "wondering what he's doing right now", painting the picture of what his most ideal idylic life is. wanting a return of something lost. wanting Stan back more than anything.

he finally accepts that his dream never really changed, just the same as stan's and so they saild off together for the rest of their days, in ford's own words (which ironically sounds like a marriage to me either way so tough shit ford)

[itspileofgoodthings]

one big thing I’ve learned by 29 is that the Plan, the God’s Plan of it all I mean, is bigger than me and not just bigger than me but also bigger than my understanding of narrative threads and their limitations. And it’s bigger even than just a simple paradox, turning-on-their-head thing way of being bigger. It’s just so vast. And there is so much room for surprise and possibility and hope in that reality.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[cha-melodius]

Hey, hiii! Are you still taking prompts? Am I right that this one didn't come yet:

💖 + firstprince

Your prompt fulfillments have all been lovely and wonderful, superb even, 12/10, absolutely addictive, no notes, chef's kiss. Mwah!

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out (you are right, that one didn't get sent before! sorry for the delay on this, it fought me a bit [no pun intended], but it's also extra long to make up for it. a bit of m-rated smut below the cut. and thank you!! read all the kiss ficlets)

Henry finds him in the training room, slamming his fists too hard into the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling.

“We need to talk about what happened back there,” Henry announces from where he leans in the doorway, loud enough to be heard over the erratic thwack thwack filling the room.

Alex doesn’t so much as glance toward him. “Don’t think we do, actually.”

Unfortunately for him, Henry isn’t willing to let this one go, especially when Alex’s self-destructive streak seems to be still going strong. There’s blood soaking through the wrappings on his knuckles, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t stop even when Henry crosses over to the bag, so Henry grabs one of his wrists and holds firm.

“What do you want, Henry?” Alex spits, fixing Henry with a hard glare as he tries to twist away.

Henry tightens his grip and tugs him closer. “I want to talk.”

“Well I don’t, so either square up or get the fuck out of my way,” Alex practically growls.

“I’m not going to fight you, Alex,” Henry says flatly. Even if he wasn’t still wearing his office clothes, it’s a stupid idea.

Alex’s eyes flash in a way that Henry knows is nothing but trouble. “You sure about that?”

Henry would reply that he is sure, in fact, except Alex swings a wild hook at him with his free arm, and Henry is forced to block it. Using Henry’s distraction to his advantage, Alex pulls free from his grip and keeps coming, throwing punches and forcing Henry back across the mat until he is, quite frankly, fed up. Henry makes another grab on Alex’s next punch and tries to twist his arm behind his back, but Alex is too quick—he drops his shoulder and throws out a leg, sweeping Henry’s feet out from under him, and the move sends them both tumbling to the floor.

Unfortunately for Alex, though he’s got the speed advantage when upright, Henry’s mass works to his advantage on the ground. Alex tries to squirm out of his grip, but Henry gets a thigh thrown over his hips and succeeds in turning them over so that he’s straddling Alex’s thighs, catching Alex’s other wrist and pinning both wrists to the mat next to his head as he does.

“For fuck’s sake, stop,” Henry snaps, his chest heaving from the exertion.

“Make me,” Alex retorts hotly, defiance flashing in his eyes as he struggles, arching up under Henry’s body, and abruptly a different kind of heat flares in Henry’s gut.

“Alex,” he warns.

A slow grin spreads onto Alex’s face, and he very deliberately shifts against Henry again. “Make me,” he taunts, his voice pitched low, and the last threads of Henry’s tattered restraint give way.

He crashes his lips onto Alex’s in a bruising kiss that’s just as much a battle as the fight that came before it. Alex kisses with all of his teeth and his tongue shoving into Henry’s mouth, and it should be awful but it’s not. The rest of Henry’s breath is stolen away, but he doesn’t care, he’s drawing his own oxygen from Alex’s lungs now. Alex writhes under him, still trying to squirm out of Henry’s grip, and when he finally does his hands go right to Henry’s arse, digging his fingers into the flesh and urging Henry’s hips against his. His stupid little workout shorts do precisely nothing to conceal how turned on he is, and he grinds up desperately against the rapidly tightening region of Henry’s trousers.

“Fuck,” Alex gasps when they part, tipping his head back against the mat and exposing the tempting line of his throat. “More. Fuck, H, I need—”

“I know what you need,” Henry growls against his fluttering pulse, then he shoves a hand into Alex’s shorts and bites down hard on his neck, and Alex keens.

It’s fast and efficient and a little rough—Christ, they don’t have time for finesse, they’re in the bloody training room and anyone could walk in—but Alex clings to him and fucks up just as hard into his fist as Henry leaves a lurid bruise just above his collarbone. Henry knows what he’s doing, and it takes only minutes before Alex is falling apart under him. He calls Henry a fucking motherfucker just before he comes, and then he goes entirely silent as his eyes squeeze closed, his chest heaves, and he spills hotly over Henry’s fist and his own stomach.

Henry works him through it until he’s hissing at the oversensitivity, then wipes his hand on the inside of Alex’s shorts and starts pulling away. That snaps Alex quickly out of his post-orgasmic haze, and he catches Henry by the wrist.

“Wait, what about you?” he asks, looking pointedly down at where Henry’s straining against his trousers.

“I’m fine,” Henry says shortly as he pulls away and stands up. Christ, what he wouldn’t do for Alex’s hands on him, but not—

Not like this.

He clears his throat, shoving all of the too many feelings about what just happened deep, deep down. “Go clean yourself up. We need to talk.”

[lazycranberrydoodles]

hua chengs i drew near-exactly a year ago ...

[meownotgood]

I'm going back to bed the moment I post this but I've been having a super rough and stressful night... so for whatever reason I went back to read some of the kind asks I've received since I saved a lot... some since the first time I started writing... and I got so emotional and just began sobbing haha.... I can't believe how lucky I am...... I love writing so much.........

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

went to the planetarium today, it was super nice^^

it turns out reflective nebula are made from diamonds, and that stars actually pulsate a bunch before they die, didn't know these things before

[ganondoodle]

perhaps an unpopular opinion but i really think having no full voice acting (regardless of its quality ..) was a key part in the zelda game vibe for me and i dearly miss it

besides its obvious benefits of being cheaper and easier to do, its just got a specific feel of ... i cant really describe it, but i miss it alot ........ plus its basically impossible to ruin our sour a character through bad or unfitting voice acting ..

[marblerose-rue]

silly doodle for my fursona since i made her 11 years ago today :-)

[bleaksqueak]

Since I posted some of my old fanart yesterday... if you're not familiar with Slayers, and thus have never heard its amazing music, do check it out. It's largely by the same songwriter, Masami Okui, that did Utena's iconic opening (Rinbu Revolution) and ofc (TRUTH) and sung by a duo of her and Hayashibara Megumi (you know, the GOAT)

The entire OST pretty much slaps. there's only a couple of bad image songs in an absolute expanse of pure gold. GIVE A REASON, the opening to the second season, tends to be the reigning favorite. (I've a hard time pinning down my absolute favorite... of the original openings, it might be Breeze, but all three are so good. Of the entire catalog? Impossible to choose. Midnight Blue, Raging Waves, Within my Unlimited Desires, Gloria, Get Along... Impossible Choice)

[calebs-hangout-corner]

Me: EAH has a bunch of plotholes and retcons, I don't have to believe everything canon tells me because it gets things wrong or just flatout contradicts itself at times and it is no use getting hung up on small details that ultimately don't matter in the grand scheme of the story.

Also me: [Trying to come up with a way to explain the whole "the Evil Queen stole the Dark Fairy's destiny" detail]